


Save Rock and Roll

by singing_to_empty_caves



Category: Fall Out Boy, Save Rock And Roll - Fall Out Boy (Album)
Genre: Not History Compliant, Save Rock and Roll (Album), Stabbing, War, album interpretation, sarcastic patrick, sorry I don't understand why I keep making violent scenarios, that's a nice phrase wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 00:30:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17756354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singing_to_empty_caves/pseuds/singing_to_empty_caves
Summary: Isn't it funny how the people you really can't stand are the ones who keep coming back from fatal injuries?---(It's a story about a war with no connection to any point in history, and how one soldier is doing in the middle of it all.)





	Save Rock and Roll

He drags himself forward, among all of the people who failed at saving their own skin, and grips his sword in a show of blind determination. It’s hard to determine whether the blood dripping off of the hilt is his or someone else’s, but he doesn’t care either way, as long as he can still hold the thing.

There’s only one man left in front of him, and the warrior takes all of the strength left in him to plunge the blade into his enemy’s shoulder. That arm drops its dagger without permission.

“I’m not gonna kill you,” the warrior heaves, “but you won’t kill me, either. Word of advice--get help right after the sword comes out, so you don’t bleed to death.”

The victim coughs out an indecipherable phrase, and that’s when the warrior pulls out his weapon and walks away.

\---

“There’s no one left,” says the general, glaring at the table in front of him and seeming like he thinks he can resurrect his fallen fighters with the force of it.

That’s when there’s a cough to call attention, and a triumphant man stumbles forward in a desperate attempt to avoid falling to the floor. When he’s regained his balance, he looks the general in the eye.

“Of course it would be _you,_ ” the superior sighs. “One man left, and it’s the one who’s gone soft.”

“War isn’t kind to anyone,” the warrior explains, as if he hasn’t done it too many times already. “Enough of us die that I can’t stand doing the same thing to them.”

The general growls out, “We’ll keep losing men as long as you keep letting their killers live.”

“With all due respect, they’re going to kill no matter what we do. You can wipe out a whole population if you want to, but I won’t be a part of the genocide.”

“That’s a harsh word, kid.”

The warrior lets out a laugh that sends blood in a splatter from his throat. “It’s true, right? Now, I’d like permission to see a medic.”

“You’re not a valuable soldier, you know.”

“But you’ve made it very clear that our lives matter more than anyone else’s.”

With an irritated sigh, the general nods a signal for his soldier to find someone to keep him alive a little longer.

\---

It’s his favorite that greets him at the door. She smiles brightly and leads him inside, pointing to a bed in the corner that remains unoccupied.

"You saved me a spot,” he says. “Thanks for that.”

She nods and steps aside for him to lie down.

“It’s pretty bad this time, I got stabbed. Missed everything vital, I think, except that I keep coughing up blood.”

Her expression is understanding as she places her hands on his torso. He always thought that she should have some kind of magical glow to her hands when she stitched him up, but her touch is still gentle and hopelessly average-looking as his skin repairs itself under her power. The sensation of it became a regular thing a long while ago, but he still hates the nausea that sticks with him after his insides fix themselves.

“How long do I have to stay here?” he asks. “Just for the night?”

She bounces with a silent laugh and shakes her head.

“Great, the whole week.”

Her shrug tells him he’s exactly right, as defeated as he is. He sits up and takes his shirt in both hands to look it over.

“Wish I hadn’t ruined this. I love this band. Got the shirt from a stand at a concert.” He drops it and kicks off his shoes. “It’s too bad they all died. This whole war sucks.”

\---

Still, he thinks as he stares at the dark ceiling of the infirmary room, he loves the fight. He loves ducking and rolling, dancing around the steps of trained fighters in armored clothes. He remembers the first time he lost his right hand with fondness. The other guy had sliced it off, and looked so satisfied with himself that this warrior couldn’t stand it. He’d grabbed his hand off the ground and slapped his challenger with it. Still useful, and even more so when his favorite nurse--that was the day they met--reattached it.

Nobody understands how he stays alive. Even with the nurses, most people can’t manage more than one limb or punctured lung or slit throat--that one was a close call. He thinks he must be the luckiest man on the planet, if he weren’t stuck in the fight.

He’s running out of t-shirts to keep up his morale, but it’s possible he’ll manage without them. Most of the other fighters have started wearing old clothes over again, up until there’s more missing fabric than there is left.

He’d still rather wear his t-shirts and his goofy hat. He knows it looks stupid, but it’s been on his head since he still killed people. The brim hid their faces from him, and he thought that made it easier to suck it up and forget they were people. Even if he stopped making fatal wounds, he still likes how stupid it looks. Better than that, the general hates it, and can’t stand that his most resilient warrior looks like a confident teenager. Which he is, but that doesn’t matter, does it?

He’s pretty sure that he’ll keep himself alive as long as he can keep breathing at least a little bit, even if the war never ends.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Save Rock and Roll is a masterpiece, and I'm so happy I did this, even if it isn't that great.


End file.
